The Yeah, Baby Series: Limited Edition 9 Book Set

by Fiona Davenport

  Turning away from him, I hummed to my baby boy, completely ignoring the man standing in the nursery doorway. I counted to twenty in my head as I got him situated on the changing table and unsnapped his onesie. A bright smile and delightful giggle were the reward for my patience as I tickled his belly.

  I felt the warmth of Weston’s body against my back, but I refused to look up at him. Not yet. “I need to get him changed and fed before he shouts the house down. He’s not very patient when he’s hungry, but he loves to go into his baby swing after. Once he’s settled, we can talk about your ridiculous accusation and where the heck you’ve been for the last year.”

  “Aspen—”

  “No,” I cut him off. “I refuse to do this in front of Carter.”

  “You named him Carter?” There was awe in Weston’s tone, and it made my eyes well up with tears.

  Macy had insisted I was a pushover for naming my baby after his daddy’s father, even though he’d pulled a complete disappearing act on me. At the time, it had felt like the only thing I could do to give my son a connection to his daddy. “Yes,” I choked out. “His name is Carter Davis Kennedy.”

  “Carter Davis”—his tone switched from one of wonder to a snarl as he repeated the last word—“Kennedy.”

  “I said, not in front of the baby,” I bit out as I snapped his onesie back up again and dropped his soiled diaper into the bin next to the changing table. “I’d prefer if you wait in the living room, anyway. He needs to be fed.”

  “No fucking way am I leaving this room, Aspen.” I felt his eyes on me as I made my way to the rocking chair in the corner of the room. “I’ve missed three months of my baby’s life. I’m not willing to miss another moment. Let me help feed him.”

  A deep flush crept up my chest and towards my face. “There isn’t anything for you to help with because he doesn’t take a bottle.”

  “Then I guess you’d better get used to breastfeeding him in front of me, sweetheart,” he rumbled. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I’m not doing this with you in here,” I snapped.

  He stalked towards me and nudged me into the chair by my shoulders, bending down to stroke Carter’s cheek. “It’s not like I haven’t seen your tits before, Aspen.” His gaze dropped lower and heated. “Although, I should have noticed the size difference right away. You’ve gone up at least a cup since I had my mouth all over them while you screamed my name.”

  “Weston! Not in front of Carter,” I gasped, and then mumbled to myself. “And it’s more like two cup sizes, not that you’ll ever have the chance to touch them again.”

  “Don’t bet your sweet ass on that,” he whispered in my ear. Rising up again, he prowled towards the door. “Women breastfeed in public all the time. You’ve got two minutes to figure something out while I get you a glass of water.”

  Then he strolled out of the nursery like he owned the place. “Why, oh why, did I have to fall for such a conceited, arrogant man? Can you tell Mommy that?” I muttered while I lifted my shirt, unbuttoned the flap on my nursing bra, and pulled a blanket over Carter’s head while he latched on like the greedy little boy he was at feeding time.

  I’d barely gotten the blanket in place when Weston returned. He placed the glass of water he’d gotten me on the table next to the rocking chair and dropped down onto the floor to sit, with his legs stretched out, directly in front of me. He was so damn tall, he practically took up all the floor space in the room.

  “I don’t understand how this happened,” he mused absently, obviously not aware he’d spoken the thought out loud.

  I shrugged. “Condoms don’t always work.” My tone was defensive, miffed that he might be blaming me for getting pregnant.

  His lips twitched before he pressed them into a thin line, as though he was suppressing a smile and my eyes narrowed in suspicion. He had no right to be happy about that after ignoring the consequences of it for so long.

  “When was he born?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “Three months ago tomorrow.”

  His eyes lit with excitement as they drifted down to the blanketed head of our son. “A milestone to celebrate.”

  “Like you really care,” I mumbled.

  “If you want to have this out now, I’m more than willing to do so,” he rumbled. “You’re the one who said we needed to wait until my little man was done eating. If that’s the way you want to play it, then you can’t lob accusations like that my way. Because I’m more than fucking ready to hear your explanation for how I’m just now finding out you had my baby.”

  “Accusations?” I hissed, resting my hand over Carter’s head to cover his ear in a futile attempt to protect him from an argument that wasn’t going to wait because I couldn’t seem to stop myself from responding. “You’re the one who tried to insinuate I was never going to tell you something I’d tried telling you many, many times. I’m not the one who disappeared for a year and didn’t answer any of your messages. If either of us has the right to be pissed off here, it’s me, because I’m the one who was left pregnant and alone. You abandoned us, bucko. Not the other way around.”

  “You’ve got to be fucking shitting me,” he groaned, his head dropping low while he took several deep breaths. When he looked up again, his eyes were filled with a strange mixture of rage and regret. “You emailed me?”

  “Of course I did!” I snapped. “You said it was the only way I could reach you while you were gone, and I stupidly believed you. I sent my first message a week after you left because I missed you. I wasn’t sure when you’d get it or be able to respond, but then I realized a couple weeks later that I’d missed my period. I sent the second one then. The third one had the news of my positive pregnancy test. I emailed the fuck out of you until I realized it wasn’t going to make you magically reappear in my life.”

  “How many?” The words sounded like they were dragged from the depths of his soul.

  “How many what?” I whispered back, starting to get the feeling there was something seriously wrong here. He wasn’t acting like a man who’d known about his baby. I’d been too angry before to stop and consider the why behind his accusation. But was it really possible he hadn’t known? That he’d never received any of my messages?

  “How many fucking times did you email me?”

  “You’re going to have to learn how to watch your language if you plan on spending time with Carter,” I chided. It didn’t do me much good because he just sat there, glaring at me from the floor. I wasn’t sure how honest I should be with him. The answer was kind of embarrassing when I stopped to think about it. I didn’t really want to admit to a number out loud. “Too many.”

  He uncoiled from his position on the floor and stalked towards me, only to crouch down in front of me, his eyes drilling into mine. “How many times, Aspen?”

  Carter came to my rescue and let out a little wail. He was hungry and didn’t mind my distraction until it interfered with his ability to eat. I switched him to the other side, and he latched back on and settled down immediately.

  “Tell me, Aspen,” he rasped out. “I need to know.”

  I closed my eyes in an effort to block out the tortured look in his. It didn’t help, and the answer spilled from my lips anyway. “Forty.”

  “Forty fucking emails.” His forehead pressed gently against mine, and I squeezed my eyes even more tightly shut. “When did you send the last one?”

  “After the plus sign turned up on my pregnancy test, I kept sending them. Once a week. Right up until the day after Carter was born. I figured if you didn’t respond to a picture of him, then there wasn’t anything else for me to say.”

  “My beautiful girl held on to her faith for nine goddamn months, all alone during her pregnancy without me to care for her,” he whispered against my lips. “And spent three more raising my son while thinking I didn’t give a damn. It fucking guts me to know I let you down, Aspen.”

  My eyes popped open at his admission, and I was shocked
to find tears tracking down his cheeks. “You didn’t get them?” I breathed out, hope building in my chest.

  “Of course I didn’t fucking get them, Aspen,” he snapped. “I never would have left you hanging like that. I don’t know what you said in the first one, but I would’ve replied to let you know I missed you too. I would’ve told you in the second to wait to take a test because I wanted to be there when you did, and I would have moved heaven and earth to make it fucking happen. And your third email would’ve made me want to shout from the rooftops knowing you were carrying my child.”

  My heart felt like it was racing out of my chest. I didn’t know what to think or feel. The whole damn time I’d been hating him for leaving me and abandoning our child, he’d had no idea. It didn’t seem possible, but there was no mistaking his reaction, or the sincerity of his words.

  “I don’t know what the rest of them said, but I would have treasured each and every one. No, make that will treasure them, because I’m going to read them all and give you the replies you damn well should have received from the start. I’m also going to find out who the fuck was responsible for this, and they’re going to pay for hurting you and keeping my family from me all this time,” he vowed.

  I’d thought my heart was steeled against him forever, but it melted then and there.

  3

  Weston

  I felt like I was being tossed about in an ocean of emotions. I was in a fucking rage over whoever had kept those emails from me. I was awed at the sight of the perfect little person we’d created. But mostly, I realized I was even more in love with Aspen than the day we’d parted. It consumed me, made me want to wrap the two of them up and take them away. Somewhere safe, where it would be just the three of us.

  Not one to keep my thoughts to myself, the desire to tell her was pressing on me, to open myself up to her completely. But, something told me it wasn’t the right time. Despite the truth of the misunderstanding, I could see the spark of wariness in her beautiful chocolate eyes. I wanted to demand that she trust me, but I was going to have to earn it back.

  Carter made some cute little noises and Aspen fumbled under the blanket for a second, until I heard a snap and was a little disappointed to know she was all covered up again. I’d wanted to rip the blanket away so I could see my little man cuddled up to his mommy, Aspen’s gorgeous breasts giving our son nourishment. It spurred a primitive instinct inside me, pride that I’d bred my woman. A need to claim her and Carter, so everyone knew they were mine.

  The blanket slipped down and Aspen cooed at the baby as she lifted him to her shoulder.

  “May I?” I asked tentatively. I sensed I needed to rein in the overbearing, demanding asshole I could be.

  She looked at me with surprise and hesitated. I tamped down my irritation, reminding myself of our precarious situation. It would take time for her to get over the feeling she’d spent a year cultivating. After a moment, she gave me a tiny smile and handed me a cloth. I put it over my shoulder and reached out to take Carter, standing, then propping him over the blanket. I rubbed a few gentle circles on his back until he ceased squirming, then patted his back.

  A feeling of peace and contentment washed over me as I held him. Glancing down at Aspen, I saw her leaning back in the chair, fiddling with the hem of her shirt as she watched us closely with warm eyes and a soft smile on her lips.

  “He’s amazing,” I said quietly, starting to pace. She nodded, practically glowing as her gaze locked on to Carter. He let out a few little burps, so I lifted him from my shoulder and cradled him in my arms to study him. He grinned at me and started jabbering away, telling me a story only he could understand.

  “You look good with a baby in your arms, Weston,” Aspen murmured. My eyes shot to her face and the warmth I’d seen before had become a simmering heat. My body responded like it hadn’t seen her in a year and was desperate to have her. You’re holding your son, man. Get it together.

  I was a little torn, one side of me wanting to keep Carter in my arms, studying his every feature, and getting to know him. The other, wondering when it was nap time so I could take my turn with Aspen’s incredible tits and bury myself so deep inside her she’d remember, without a doubt, that we were made for each other.

  She pushed herself out of the rocking chair and stood up. Her arms twitched, as though she wanted to reach for the baby, and my eyes pleaded with her. I needed to hold him awhile longer, to assure myself he was real, that all of this was real. She came up to us and grabbed his tiny, chubby hand, placing a kiss on his cheek. Before I could reel it in, my mind wandered to all the places on my body I wanted to feel those lips and I shifted, becoming even more uncomfortable.

  “Come to the kitchen,” she said as she walked towards the door. “I’ll make us some lunch and we’ll talk.”

  I waited until she was out the door before staring down at Carter once again. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you, buddy. But, I promise I’m not going to leave you again. I’m going to be the best dad you’ve ever had,” I said cheekily. “We are going to be a family”—I lowered my voice to a mock whisper—“and you will both have the last name Davis.” He gurgled a reply, obviously agreeing with my plan. “I’m glad you’re on board. Now we just need to convince your mommy.”

  “Are you coming?” My head whipped up at the sound of Aspen’s voice. She looked at me expectantly, and I silently sighed in relief when I didn’t see any hint that she’d heard my conversation with Carter.

  “Yeah,” I answered, ambling towards her and following as she led the way down the hall, to the kitchen. My eyes stayed glued to her ass and the seductive sway of her hips. She was even curvier now and it was sexy as fuck. I was practically salivating at the thought of getting all that sweetness beneath me. Carter squawked, demanding my attention, and I grinned at him. “Someday you will understand, little man,” I confided quietly.

  “Did you say something?” Aspen asked over her shoulder.

  “Uh oh,” I whispered, only loud enough for him to hear. “Busted.” I cleared my throat self-consciously and spoke a little louder this time. “Um, no. Just talking nonsense to Carter.”

  She peeked at us, flipping her hair back so she could see behind her and smiled approvingly, before entering the kitchen. The room was bright and cheery with buttery yellow walls, a black and white checkered floor, and gingham curtains hanging on the window over the sink. The appliances and cabinets gave away the age of the place, but it was obvious she’d taken great care to make it clean and cozy.

  Walking straight to the fridge, she opened it while casually pointing off to her right. “You can set Carter in the swing by the table. He loves it.”

  I was content to hold him, but as I approached the table, he saw the swing and started kicking about excitedly. Laughing, I lowered him down and figured out how to buckle him into the contraption. Then I sat in the nearest chair, keeping an eye on him as I turned most of my attention to my woman. While I watched her making sandwiches and moving around the kitchen, those caveman instincts reared up again.

  The scene in front of me shifted and all I could see was Aspen, swollen with our baby, puttering around in a much bigger kitchen. She was humming and smiling contentedly, causing that warmth to bloom in my chest again. I almost laughed when my eyes trailed down her legs and I realized how truly Machiavellian my daydream was. She was barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen. I mentally shrugged, not about to apologize for it.

  Chauvinistic or not, I was suddenly more determined than ever to make that vision a reality. I couldn’t wait to be with Aspen and Carter every day, to be a husband and father. Excitement coursed through me at the thought of every milestone I would witness, at all the things I would teach him. But, I was also determined to get her pregnant again as soon as possible and this time, I wouldn’t miss any of it.

  Finally, she brought our plates to the table, then fetched two tall glasses of homemade iced tea. She sat across from me and for a few seconds, neither of us made a m
ove, studying each other. She broke the trance first and lifted her sandwich to her mouth. After one bite, I realized I needed to focus on lunch and not watching her eat or I would probably come in my pants like a teenager before she finished eating.

  “Are you going to tell me where you’ve been and why you were gone so long?” Her question hung in the air between us. I was going to have to answer carefully. I hadn’t officially put in my request to be reassigned from being a field agent, though I’d had the conversation with my boss. Without the stamp dry on the paperwork, I was technically still under a gag order.

  But my gut was telling me that my answer to her query was going to set the path towards our future. It would either make it easier or harder and while I preferred the former, it didn’t really matter, I would get the end result I wanted, no matter what.

  I decided to tell her as much as I could, probably a little more than I should, but I wanted to gain her trust as fast as possible so we could forget the past and forge a new future.

  I looked down to check on Carter and ran a hand over the dark fuzz on his head. He really was amazing. His eyes were drooping, but he still gave me a toothless grin.

  Returning to Aspen, I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed. “I could be thrown in prison for some of the stuff I’m about to tell you,” I warned her, my tone clearly conveying the severity of the situation. “But, I trust you to keep me away from a firing squad and I want complete honesty between us.”

  Wariness crept into her eyes, her hands folding demurely on the table. But, she nodded, staying silent, and waited for me to continue. As concisely as possible, I explained my job at the CIA and that I’d been undercover overseas.

  Her eyes trailed along my arms and down to my hands, skepticism clear in her gaze. “My tattoos are one of the reasons I’m so damn good at my job when I’m out on a mission. I’m not exactly what most people picture when they think of an undercover agent.”